It is the cut of a burning knife through La Mision Perdida--as long
as eternity, as dividing as death. On either side of that gash
life is blasted; wherever that cruel steel is laid the track of it
is livid and barren; it cuts down all barriers; leaps all
boundaries, be they canada or canyon; it is a torrent in the plain,
a tornado in the forest; its very pathway is destruction to whoso
crosses it--man or beast; it is the heathenish God of the
Americanos; they build temples for it, and flock there and worship
it whenever it stops, breathing fire and flame like a very Moloch."

"Eh! St. Anthony preserve us!" said Faquita, shuddering; "and yet
they spoke of it as 'shares' and 'stocks,' and said it would double
the price of corn."

"Now, Judas pursue thee and thy railroad, Pereo," said Pepita,
impatiently. "It is not such bagatela that Faquita is here to
relate. Go on, child, and tell all that happened."

"And then," continued Faquita, with a slight affectation of maiden
bashfulness, in the closer-drawing circle of cigarettes, "and then
they talked of other things and of themselves; and, of a verity,
this gray-bearded Doctor will play the goat and utter gallant
speeches, and speak of a lifelong devotion and of the time he
should have a right to protect--"

"The right, girl! Didst thou say the right? No, thou didst
mistake. It was not THAT he meant?"

"Thy life to a quarter peso that the little Faquita does not
mistake," said the evident satirist of the household. "Trust to